Daddy's Girl
by Speakfire
Summary: A story about times in Lucy McClane's life when she either follows her father's advice or learns from his examples.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Die Hard, the characters, or anything else related therein. I wish I did though! I'm not making a profit from this, and the story is purely for entertainment.

A/N Yep, another Die Hard story! I loved in DH4 how Lucy was so much like her father, and it got me thinking, what other times that we don't see does she show she is truly John McClane's daughter? I bet there's a ton, and these are some of the times I've come up with on my own.

* * *

"Lucy isn't responding to the antibiotics as well as we had anticipated," the older woman informed John and Holly McClane, her eyes sad and her voice grim. There was more, of course, about how Lucy being born a couple of weeks early, while not considered a true premature birth, it had made her more susceptible than other newborns to infection, and that her immune system wasn't developed enough.

They both understood the message the doctor was trying to convey, that despite the hospital's best efforts, there was a good chance that Lucy might not make it through the next 24 hours.

A few hours later, John sat in the nursery next to his daughter's hospital crib, his dark green eyes fixed on the small wrinkled face, closed eyes, and mass of tubing going from her nose, mouth, and arms. These things were doing her best to help keep her alive, unnatural as they appeared, and even so, apparently it just wasn't enough.

He reached down, tenderly brushing his finger across her forehead before settling it in under her hand, so that her fingers (god, they were so small, so fragile) wrapped around his.

"Hey baby girl," John whispered hoarsely, resting his chin on the edge of the bed rail as he spoke. He glanced quickly around the room, leaned in a little closer toward Lucy, "Listen, I know these doctors are doin' their best, but they don't know you, not like I do. They don't think you can fight your way through this, but I know you're a fighter, not a quitter. I've known it from the moment I hugged your mom too hard and you kicked me in the stomach to show how much I'd pissed you off."

A broken smile appeared on John's face at that memory, right before a sound that teetered between a laugh and a sob escaped his throat. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard, trying to regain control of his emotions. After a few moments, he'd recovered enough to speak again. "So, uh, listen, Lucy… just because things are sucky right now and those asshole doctors don't think you can do it, it doesn't mean you should just give up, you know? You can always try to fight, no matter what the situation, or what anyone else says. You can fight to survive, just to prove everyone wrong." He paused, then corrected with a watery, lopsided grin, "Well, everyone but me."

Little Lucy stirred and her grasp tightened on his finger, ever so slightly, barely even a whisper of touch but John knew he'd felt it none the less.

"That's my girl."


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost 3am before John McClane unlocked the front door and let himself into the house. Holly had left the kitchen light on for him, and the bulb's dim glow provided enough light for him to notice the small, blanket-wrapped lump on the couch.

He bent down to pick up Lucy and carry her back upstairs to bed, but as soon as he touched her, she sat up, yawned sleepily, stretched and gave him a reproachful look. "You're late."

John had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing at that. Despite the fact that she was only 8, Lucy had sounded just like her mother. Pursing his lips, he carefully considered his options before responding, "Crime doesn't sleep. I had to catch up on some paperwork, and lost track of time."

Lucy didn't seem to be appeased by his explanation, and crossed her arms. "Mommy's mad at you again."

John winced, nodding. "Yeah, I kinda figured that out when she hung up on me earlier when I called." He rocked back on his heels and picked up the blanket, tossing it over the back of the sofa. "Come on, you have school tomorrow. Back to bed."

"But Daddy, I need to talk to you. That's why I stayed up to wait for you," Lucy informed him very seriously. "It's about this boy in my class, Caleb."

Every fatherly protective instinct John McClane possessed surged to the forefront at that. If anyone had been messing with his daughter, he didn't care how old the kid was, there was going to be hell to pay. "What boy? What'd he do?" He sat beside her on the couch.

"Well…." Lucy looked down at her hands and shrugged, suddenly nervous. "He keeps pulling my hair, when we're in line to go to lunch or to recess or PE. I tried to get him to stop, but he won't stop." She worriedly peeked up at him from behind long lashes and dark bangs.

"Did you punch the little jerkweed in the nose?" John asked with a scowl.

Lucy giggled at his suggestion. "Mommy said you'd tell me to do that. She said I should ignore him, or tell Mrs. Hutchins. I tried doing telling on him, but she said she couldn't do anything if she didn't see him doing it. And then Caleb started calling me a tattle-tale. And he still keeps doing it, pulling on my hair, I mean. Only now he pulls even harder and only when Mrs. Hutchins isn't looking."

"That little…" John's frown grew as he considered her words for a moment. "Wait, you told your mother, but you didn't tell me? How long has this been going on?"

Lucy shrugged again, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember. "I dunno, a long time. Like a week." Her dark eyes met his, "I wanted to tell you but you keep coming home after my bed time." Her tone wasn't accusing, but matter of fact.

John sighed guiltily at that. It was true, he had been working late an awful lot recently. He knew it was just another way he had been avoiding Holly, and the increasing number of arguments they'd been having. But by avoiding her, he'd ignored his kids by default. "I'm sorry, baby. I'll try to be home before your bedtime from now on, ok?"

She sniffled and nodded. "Anyway, I can't punch him, cause Mommy and Mrs. Hutchins say I will get in trouble for starting a fight. Mommy says he's just being a boy, and this is what little boys do."

Her father shook his head, "Yeah, well, that's a lousy excuse to be a little punk." He wrapped his arm around her small thin shoulders, hugging her to his chest as he spoke, "You're a pretty smart girl. Take it from me, the easiest way of dealing with jerks like that is knowing what they're going to do, and then trying to surprise them by doing something unexpected. You know? Like, when he tries to pull your hair, do something he doesn't think you're going to do. Like stomp on his foot. Or elbow him in the stomach. Cause when he's pulling your hair, he's pulling you back, right? I bet you try to get away from him by moving forward? He won't be expecting you to do anything but try to get away from him, and that's when you can get him." That was actually a pretty good plan, John thought to himself and warmed up to the idea even more. "That way, if you do hit him, it looks more accidental than on purpose. Even if you're doing it on purpose. I mean, after all, he's the one who pulled you back into him by pulling on your hair, it's not your fault if you 'accidently' hit him when you fall back," he added with a sly grin.

Lucy's expression was dubious, but she nodded comprehension. "Ok. Do something unexpected," she repeated and smiled up at her father. "I can do that."'

John winked playfully at her and tweaked her nose. "Trust me, it works every time."

The next day, Lucy was standing in line with the rest of the kids, and Caleb was right behind her, fidgeting, eyeing the teacher, trying to pick the perfect opportunity to torture the little girl in front of him and get away with it yet again.

As Mrs. Hutchins turned away from the kids to chat with the music teacher, Caleb reached out and yanked on Lucy's ponytail. HARD.

This time however, Lucy anticipated his action, and instead of leaning forward and away, the way she'd done all the other times, she relaxed and let her head snap back, catching the boy right on the nose with a loud crack of sound. Then she stumbled backward as well, her sharp bony elbow digging deep into his ribs as she fell back on top of him.

Caleb was so shocked by Lucy's incredibly quick reaction that even as he started making a gasping, squealing sound and blood spurted from his nose, he still forgot to let go of her hair. Thus, when Mrs. Hutchins and the music teacher both turned around at that sudden crack, it was quite obvious to them what had happened. The boy had pulled so hard on the girl's hair, he almost pulled her backward off her feet and back into him.

Little Lucy McClane was expressionless as she watched Mrs. Hutchins tend to the sobbing, bloody-nosed boy, while the music teacher turned and asked if she was alright. She rubbed the back of her head, solemnly looking up at the man. "I tried to tell Mrs. Hutchins that he'd been pulling on my hair, but she didn't believe me. I guess she believes me now."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N I'm sorry for the delay in getting this up. I forgot last week was Spring Break, and I have a difficult time writing when there's a 6 year old kid running loose around the house. The more I write, the more this story is going in unexpected ways, but that's ok. It happens sometimes :) I'll try to get the next chapter up soon! By the way, a friend and I actually found a kitten like this behind a grocery store about ten years ago. He was so thin the vet couldn't even vaccinate him, because he didn't have any muscle sites on his body to inject into. Spectre recovered and went on to make a great pet though.

I also found a beta reader (thank you Angel) who helped clean up this chapter so it reads far more smoothly than the previous version did.

* * *

The evening started out badly with dinner, and things went strictly downhill from there. The arguments had been going non-stop all night with their father concerning his visit from New York and the divorce.

Even after leaving the movie theater, before Jack, Lucy and John had even reached the rental car, another heated dispute was underway, this one about John's apparent inability to stop smoking while in their presence.

Stopping, Lucy turned to give her father a derisive smile, "Jesus, John, you're the one who promised not to smoke or drink around us. It doesn't make any difference where we are."

John stiffened as his daughter called him by his first name, and Lucy immediately picked up on it. Even Jack was grinning at his discomfiture.

"Gee, sorry, John," she continued, putting added emphasis on the name, "I mistakenly believed you'd keep your promise, for once in your life. I guess I should have known better, I mean after all if you're going to break your wedding vows to Mom by divorcing her, why should we expect you to keep your promises to us?"

John's face went still at that, and he reached into his pocket and pulled the pack of cigarettes back out, "You don't think I can quit smoking around you?"

Jack snorted, "Hell, I'm shocked enough that you've stopped drinking while you've been visiting us here in L.A." He walked up to stand beside his sister. At fifteen, she was two years older than he was, but the boy had just hit a recent growth spurt and was already her equal in height.

"Want me to quit smoking?" John crumpled the pack of cigarettes in his hand, and threw them toward the trash dumpster a short distance away. The lighter followed suit and clanked against the side of the dark green dumpster before falling to the pavement. "There, I quit smoking. You happy now?"

"Please," Lucy replied, rolling her eyes. "Like you're not going to go buy another pack before you head back to New York." She arched an eyebrow at her brother, "What do you think, Jack? I give him 24 hours, you willing to take that bet?"

Jack shook his head, smirking. "No way, no bet."

"Quiet!" John broke into their conversation in a low voice, holding up his hand.

Lucy began to retort but realized he wasn't even looking at her. Instead his attention was focused on the dumpsters. "What..?" she started to ask, but her father interrupted her again.

"Shh, I thought I heard something," John said out the corner of his mouth without looking around.

Jack shrugged unknowingly at her, "I didn't hear anything." But he fell silent, cocking his head in concentration.

Heaving an impatient sigh, Lucy listened as well. She could hear the sounds of cars leaving the front side of the movie theater parking lot, and… something else. Some kind of crying, mewling sound was coming from the direction of the wastebin.

As their father warily approached the dumpster, Jack whispered, "It kinda sounds like a baby."

Lucy's mind suddenly filled with the image of them finding a newborn baby amidst the theater's trash, bloody and umbilical cord still attached. She didn't watch the news very much but even so she knew it had happened before. For the first time since his arrival from New York almost five days earlier, Lucy McClane was glad that her father was there. Whatever was making the noise, she knew John would be more than capable of dealing with it. "What is it, Daddy?"

John crouched down, peering under the dumpster and finally answered, "It's a cat. It's a damned cat."

The small animal sat just under the edge of the wheels of the dumpster. It didn't move as they approached Instead it continued meowing hoarsely, a rasping quiet sound that rattled in the thing's throat.

"It's not a cat, it's a kitten," Jack corrected, moving up to stand behind his father, and his eyebrows furrowed. "It's awfully small. Why's it sound like that? My friend Tucker got a kitten and it didn't sound like that."

John reached out, wrapping his fingers around the little kitten's torso to pick it up and then cursed as he touched it. "Son of a bitch," he said with disgust, standing to his feet and staring at the kitten that was so small he could hold it in the palm of one hand and still have room to spare.

"What's wrong?" Lucy immediately asked, moving around him and reaching out to pet the cat. She gasped, drawing her hand back in shock. "Oh my god, it's nothing but bone."

The kitten's coarse but fluffy fur had hidden its true physical condition. This animal was beyond thin. It was emaciated, literally starving to death. Lucy could feel every single one of the ribs, the bony protrusions on the spine, and the points of the hip. Even the bones of the cat's tail could each be felt individually, it was so thin. No wonder it hadn't moved forward to approach them, it was doubtful the kitten even had the strength to walk. It began to shiver uncontrollably even though it was a typical warm Los Angeles night.

Jack felt the kitten as well, and wrinkled his nose. "That's just gross," he announced, shaking his hand as though to rid it of the feeling.

"Here, take it for a minute," John ordered, pushing it into Lucy's startled hands before he quickly unbuttoned and removed his blue shirt, revealing the plain white t-shirt he always wore underneath.

"Why's it shivering like that?" Lucy asked, looking up at her father. "It's not cold at all outside."

John reclaimed the kitten, wrapping it in the warmth of his shirt as he answered, "Because it's got no muscle. Takes muscle to stay warm, to insulate you from both heat and cold." He tucked it under his arm and began walking briskly toward the rental car. "Either of you two know where there's a vet clinic that's open 24 hours?"

Jack and Lucy looked at each other with no small amount of confusion, then hurried after him.

"Uh, yeah. I think there's a 24 hour vet on the way home, you know, that big one on the right just past the McDonald's?" Lucy responded, then hesitantly asked, "Is that where we're going? But Daddy, um, I thought you hated cats. Hated them with a passion, in fact."

Jack immediately nodded, as he climbed into the back seat. "I definitely remember you saying you hate cats on more than one occasion. You said it was why we couldn't get one when we were kids."

"I do hate cats. What the hell's that got to do with anything?" John demanded as he gave the kitten to Lucy again so he could drive. "I can't stand cats. But what, did you think I was just going to leave it under the dumpster to die a slow death? I may hate cats, but this cat needs help and there's no one else around to help him. So that's what we're going to do."

Five years later, for some reason that particular occasion came to Lucy's mind as she stared at a very inebriated Jennifer Brooks, who was in an alcohol-induced stupor and passed out on the large sofa at the frat party Lucy and some friends had gone to.

Two guys sat on either side of Jennifer, running their hands up and down her jeans-clad thighs. The girl's head lolled, her eyes rolled up into the back of her head. "Man, check this out," the dark haired guy on her left said, leaning over to nuzzle her neck and kiss her. The other guy laughed and roughly groped one of Jennifer's breasts. "She is totally out of it."

"Come on, Lucy, let's get out of here," Bethany Tatum said to her, and not for the first time. She followed Lucy's gaze to where the guys were again feeling up Jennifer, and let out a short bark of laughter. "Talk about getting what you deserve, that stupid bitch. If I'd known she was gonna be here, we never would have come." In a lower voice, she whispered to Lucy, "Not that the party would have been any better without her… What a waste of a Saturday night."

Lucy didn't respond, still watching the guys, and finally Bethany snapped her fingers a few times in front of her friend's eyes. "Lucy? Hello? Earth to Lucy… Wish you were here…"

Blinking, Lucy gave a slight shake of her head as she came out of her reverie, and then said quietly to Bethany, "Help me get her out to the car. We'll take her back to her dorm room, her roommate is probably home by now."

"What?" Bethany drew back with surprise. "Are you kidding? Um, hello? Lucy, don't you remember about a month ago, when Jennifer told Carlos that you were cheating on him, so he'd dump you and then go out with her? I remember that, and I also remember you saying she was a bitch and deserved anything bad that came to her."

Lucy sighed, blowing her bangs off of her forehead. "Yeah I remember saying that. But I also remember that Carlos could be an arrogant jerkwad and that I said I'm better off without him," she reminded her friend, adding with a small smile, "So in a way, she did me a favor." She watched the two frat guys feel up Jennifer more, by this time they'd managed to unbutton the girl's blouse. "But I also know that she's too drunk to defend herself right now, and I am pretty sure neither of these two guys are her type."

"Yeah, but…" Bethany started to protest, but Lucy interrupted.

"Look Beth, if that were you, would you want to be left alone here, with two guys doing to you what they're doing to her right now?"

Beth didn't reply but her answer was obvious enough.

Lucy lifted a chin to indicate the guys, who had now been joined in 'the fun' by two more. "She needs help getting home, and I'm going to help her, with or without you. With any luck she won't remember a thing…. Including the fact that you and I were the ones to help her home."

This time Lucy didn't wait for an answer. Instead she strode purposefully toward Jennifer, announcing to her 'suitors' that she was going to help the girl get home, and using her most unfriendly and darkest glare to scare away any the guys who protested.

"Girl," Bethany finally said as she came up to Jennifer's other side, and together the two friends lifted the drunken girl off the couch and helped her toward the door. "You just don't do things that normal people do sometimes."

"Yeah," Lucy grunted, a slight smile on her face as she glanced at Beth, "I get that from my dad's side of the family."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Thanks again to Angel, my beta reader. This chapter would be a whole lot sloppier if it weren't for her. A special thanks to Twyst for his input on John McClane's 'hero' status.

* * *

Despite Lucy's initial misgivings, purchasing beer using Bethany's sister's ID ended up being completely uneventful. The store's night cashier apparently didn't care if the driver's license he held matched her face. He seemed far more interested in staring at her boobs.

Lucy quickly pushed the grocery cart across the parking lot toward the car her friend Bethany was waiting in. As she reached the rear of the vehicle, she fumbled in her jacket pocket for the car keys. They caught on the ID and it dropped to the ground at her feet. "Shit," she muttered under her breath. Leaving the license for the moment, she unlocked and opened the trunk, then bent down only to discover someone had already beaten her to it.

"You dropped something," a familiar voice said, and Lucy looked up to meet her father's dark green eyes.

"Shit," Lucy cursed again, her gaze involuntarily shifting down to the grocery cart.

"I gotta admit this isn't exactly what I would have expected to find on your grocery list." John reached into the basket and pulled out a bottle of Milwaukee's Best. "The Beast, eh? Didn't your father teach you better than this?"

She tossed her head, not meeting his eyes. "Yeah, well I'm sure he would have if he'd been around a little more."

Before he could speak the passenger side door opened and Bethany stepped out, her expression concerned. She had her hand in her purse where, no doubt, it was clenched around a can of pepper spray. After all, this was New Jersey. "Lucy?" The girl's eyes nervously darted from Lucy to the tall, bald, and completely unfamiliar man standing beside her. "Everything ok?"

He reached into his coat and pulled out his badge, flipping it open briefly to show the other girl as he replied, "I'm Detective John McClane." There was a slight pause and he waited expectantly for Bethany to make the connection between his last name and Lucy's own.

No such reaction was forth-coming. Lucy shut her eyes and sighed, "Shit," while studiously avoiding her father's increasingly irritated gaze.

"No, actually," John finally said in an even tone, "Everything's not ok, unless there happens to be a young lady named Ashley Renee Keyes in the back seat of that car somewhere." He tucked his badge away again, slightly lifting the driver's license to wave at Bethany, who paled and shook her head. "May I see your ID, please?" he politely requested, and in a harsher voice ordered Lucy, "Yours too."

Bethany quickly withdrew her wallet from her purse, showing her license to John.

"Bethany Ann Keyes? Ashley Renee Keyes?" John raised an eyebrow, comparing the two licenses. "Your sister, I take it?" His green eyes skimmed over her face before flicking back down to the pictures on the IDs. "Not much family resemblance between you two, is there?" he inquired and gave Bethany her license back.

Her voice was squeaky with nervousness as Bethany replied, "Yes sir. No sir, not much at all." The girl's hands shook slightly as she put the ID back in her wallet.

Lucy had taken her sweet time in locating her own license, rummaging through her small purse in an attempt to delay the inevitable. Finally, she handed the license over as though she were handing out a written death sentence. Her father glanced down at it and his lips tightened with anger.

John lifted his head, the amiable smile on his face failing to meet his eyes as he spoke, "Miss Keyes, I tell you what, I'm going to hang on to this other license. It's expired, so it's invalid anyway. If I were you, I'd tell your sister that for future reference she should destroy her old driver's license to prevent it from being misused. You understand me?"

"Yes sir," Bethany replied in a tiny voice, her blue eyes darting over to Lucy, who waited in sullen silence.

Nodding his approval, John gestured at the car. "Listen, Miss Keyes, why don't you get back in the car while I have a little chat with your friend, Miss _Gennero_, ok?" His voice was hard as he said Lucy's last name. After giving Bethany his friendliest smile, even going so far as to courteously open the car door for the girl, John turned back his daughter.

She looked her father squarely in the eyes, holding out her hand for her license. "May I have it back now?" she requested tersely.

John hesitated a moment before pressing it into her palm, and watched as she quickly tucked it back into her purse. Then he quietly asked, "Are you that ashamed of my name?" This time, he was the one to turn his face away, avoiding her eyes as he stared across the parking lot. The dim light made his face seem shadowed and haggard.

Lucy was taken aback by the question. For some reason she had imagined this conversation going an entirely different way. Not trusting herself to respond, she merely shrugged as she shut the trunk. She gave the beer-filled cart a push into her father's hip to shove it and him out of the way, and then turned to walk around to the driver's side door.

Before she took a step, John reached out and grabbed her by the forearm, preventing her from moving away. "Lucy, wait."

"What?" she demanded, lifting her chin defiantly as she shook herself free of his grasp.

John's hand dropped to his side and he sighed, glancing at the interior of the car where Bethany was watching them curiously through the rear view mirror. He lifted his hand in a brief wave at the girl before asking Lucy, "This girl. Bethany. She a good friend of yours?"

The question seemed to come clear out of the blue, and Lucy nodded automatically. "Yes. My best friend in college, in fact. Why?"

He rested his hands on the handles of the grocery cart, staring down at the alcohol. "Whose idea was it to get the beer?"

She paused a fraction of a second before shrugging evasively, though her eyes flickered in Bethany's direction.

Unsurprised by her response, John dipped his head in acknowledgement, then turned to push the cart back toward the grocery store. As his shoulder brushed by Lucy, he stopped, leaned over, and spoke quietly. "Your best friend just used you to do something illegal. It's small, stupid, it's just beer, but it's still illegal, and you let her do it, let her use you. Don't let yourself be used. Not by anyone but especially not by your best friend." He straightened and walked off, the wheels of the grocery cart rattling on the pavement.

Lucy watched him push the cart into the grocery store, heaving a sigh that blew her bangs upward. He was right, dammit, she admitted to herself with growing anger. Why did he always have to be right when it came to stuff like this? "Shit," she swore out loud. It was the word of the night. Then she threw open the car door and climbed in behind the wheel.

Nervously biting at one of her fingernails, Bethany hurriedly asked, "Are you ok? Did you get a ticket or something?"

A sharp laugh escaped Lucy. "No. No, he didn't give me a ticket." The laughter trailed off and she turned to regard Bethany with grim resolve. "Don't ever ask me to do anything like this again. Ever. Got it?"

Her friend nodded furious agreement, wide-eyed. "I won't."

Not even two months passed before Lucy found herself in serious danger of being used again. This time, however, it wasn't by her best friend but by a complete stranger.

Thomas Gabriel was tall and handsome, with sandy brown hair and a frighteningly manic gleam in his blue eyes. He was the one ultimately responsible for the meltdown of the United States that day, from the transportation disaster to the stock market crash all the way to the nationwide power outages. And he'd kidnapped her in an attempt to control John McClane. That was working about as well as could be expected, which was not at all.

The last time Lucy had seen her father, she had been so mad that she'd told herself she never wanted to speak to him or see him again. But when she heard his voice over the walkie-talkie talking to Gabriel, she immediately realized there was nothing she wanted more than to see her dad again. He'd sounded so confident, so normal, like this sort of thing happened to him every day.

Then again, to hear her mother talk, maybe it did. Terrorists had blown up buildings, airplanes, and robbed the Federal Depository of New York blind. Who was it that the 'good guys' were lucky enough to have around when all hell broke loose? Not the police, the FBI, or Homeland Security. No, instead they got John McClane.

Even though Lucy had grown up hearing the word 'hero' attached to her father's name on numerous occasions, it had never quite set in with her, the sheer magnitude of things he'd done and how many people he'd saved. And despite the numerous magazine and newspaper covers John's face had graced, he'd never once bragged about his actions. If anything, he spoke with regret and humility. "If I'd done things differently, maybe I could have helped save more people," she'd heard him say so many times. That, and, "Anyone else would have done the same thing, in my position." Like hell they would have.

He had struggled to keep his family life separate from the uncertainties and dangers of his normal job and the 'hero' title he'd been given. Lucy knew the hero status had not been the reason he and his wife had divorced, but it certainly hadn't helped. Police officers had a nationwide divorce rate that was as high as 75 percent. John McClane had been able to beat almost impossible odds against the terrorists he'd faced, but his luck had run out when it came to staying married and having a normal life.

As fate would have it, now there were more terrorists, and this group had quite successfully managed to break down the entire US infrastructure in a matter of hours. And once again, somehow, her father was right in the thick of things.

Not only was John involved, he just happened to be in this particular building on the third floor, en route to rescue her and absolutely willing to kill anyone that got in his way. If that wasn't good luck, she didn't know what was.

Lucy listened intently as Thomas Gabriel talked to John over the handset. It seemed bizarre, but her father's voice was calm and utterly confident in spite of all that had happened. Even when Gabriel stared her in the eye and asked John, "What makes you think I won't put a bullet in your daughter's head right now?" her father's tone never changed.

"'Cause you're scared of me."

Gabriel laughed it off, but Lucy saw the barest hint of fear in his eyes and knew her dad was right. Thomas Gabriel, terrorist, was afraid of John McClane.

Threatening McClane didn't work, so the blue-eyed man tried to reason, explaining his cause and how his actions that day had been well-deserved given his treatment at the hands of the US government. That resulted in a similar amount of success.

Finally, Gabriel exhaled with frustration, admitting, "I can't talk to this guy." He thrust the walkie-talkie at Lucy's face and grimly ordered, "You talk to him, see if you can get him to focus."

Lucy leaned forward slightly and, though she tried to keep her voice calm, she couldn't stop the slight quaver that came through as she spoke. "Dad."

There was a long pause. For a panicked moment, Lucy wondered if her dad was even going to respond. Finally, he answered, "Hi, baby," his voice warm, deep, and reassuring. Wordlessly telling her that everything was going to be alright.

There were many things Lucy knew she could say to her father. Things like, "I'm sorry I called you an asshole yesterday," or "I love you," or even, "I don't want to die."

But Lucy looked into bright and expectant blue eyes, knowing those were all things that Thomas Gabriel wanted her to say. In fact, they were all the things that he _needed_ her to say, so that he could use her to keep John under control.

So she said the only thing she could say. "Now there are only five of them."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Thank you again Angel, not just for your beta reading but for the ideas (you know which ones I'm talking about!) that made it into the story as well. As usual, this chapter would have been a lot less interesting if it hadn't been for you. Thanks to Cathy for the emotional support. And thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed this story. You've fed the muse and the end result is finally here!

For anyone who's never heard the song I urge you to search on YouTube for the wonderful Billy Joel song "Lullabye (Goodnight, My Angel)"

* * *

Matt kissed Lucy tenderly as the song "So Close" by Jon McLaughlin came to an end. The wedding guests smiled and clapped for the bride and groom, a few of them wiping at misty eyes.

The applause interrupted the kiss, and the newly married couple laughed sheepishly, faces flushed with embarrassment and the emotion of the moment. After all, it was one thing to kiss each other in a private moment, and another thing entirely to have an audience of approximately 300 friends and family members.

Their dance complete, Matt led Lucy over to where their parents were sitting. Matt gave his radiant bride another kiss before he turned to face her father, who was rising to his feet for the father/daughter dance. John somehow managed to keep his face grim as he feigned reaching into his tuxedo jacket to pull out his gun…only there was no gun. He heaved an overly exaggerated sigh of resignation, eliciting laughter from the wedding guests, and earning himself an elbow in the thigh from Holly.

"Dad," Lucy rolled her eyes with exasperation and punched him in the arm with a white-gloved fist before leaning down to hug her mother.

He flashed a quick smile at her, "Sorry, baby. Force of habit." John extended his hand to Matt to shake, "Just remember what I said. Make her happy or…"

The young man grinned and interrupted, "Yeah, yeah, you'd hate to have to kill me, blah blah blah…" waving his hand breezily. Relinquishing his bride to her father, Matt took a seat beside his parents. His mother Joyce gave him a kiss on the cheek, beaming with happiness. His father Frank was smiling with pride as well, though he tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his tuxedo.

John held out his arm for Lucy to take, and slowly lead her to the dance floor as the piano music for Billy Joel's "Lullabye (Goodnight, My Angel)" began to play.

They began the father/daughter dance. He led his daughter expertly around the center of the dance floor, each step smooth and gliding though the music's slow tempo did not lend itself to any outbursts of fancy footwork.

Lucy surveyed the large room before meeting his green eyes with a contented sigh.

Quirking his eyebrows inquisitively, he asked, "What?"

She laughed lightly, lifting one hand from his shoulder to gesture around them, "You know, for a while there I was wondering if you'd ever let this day come before I was, say, forty."

"Yeah, well, I was just making sure you didn't get too attached to the wrong guy before the right one had a chance to come along," he retorted unrepentantly.

"Puh-lease, Dad," she said as she poked him in the chest. "You and I both know the only reason you let him take me out at all is because he saved my life."

He pursed his lips and then his slight smile spread into a broader grin that was as good as a written confession. "Shut up," he ordered her good-naturedly as they continued the dance.

"It's ok," Lucy grinned up at him, then glanced over to where Matt was sitting with his family. She sighed happily. "I do love him, you know. I wouldn't have married him otherwise."

Peering in the same direction, his own gaze went from Matt to Holly, who was watching them dance over the rim of her champagne glass. Her cobalt blue dress made her look even more stunning than usual. John smiled as he recalled his own wedding, how happy he'd been and how he'd been naïve enough to think that their love for each other would be strong enough to last them through a lifetime.

Then years had passed. He'd been promoted at his job and so had she. Inevitably, they grew older but they also grew apart. Not just physically as a result of her decision to take the position in California, but in other more complex ways that had to do with expectations and perceptions of what they were both giving and taking from their marriage.

They'd managed to put the pieces back together enough times to last through their 15th anniversary, just barely. Then John started drinking more and working more, and this time the resulting blowup between himself and Holly had resulted in his move back to New York. That ended up being the point of no return. By the time he'd gotten over his anger and was sober enough to realize how stupid and arrogant he'd been, the divorce papers had already been served.

Everyone told John he'd meet another woman sooner or later, but John knew no woman would ever replace the spot Holly held in his heart. Their love for each other had never faded throughout the years of marriage and ensuing divorce but then love had never been the problem.

"Want some fatherly advice?" he asked his daughter abruptly, his tone somber.

His quicksilver change of temper caught her off guard, but she recovered quickly. "What, you're actually asking me for once? Usually you give it to me whether I want it or not," she pointed out with a slight smile on her face.

John's expression was serious as he looked her in the eye and quietly said, "It can be easy to say 'I love you.' It's a hell of a lot harder to say, 'I was wrong' or 'I'm sorry' and mean it. And those words are just as important in a marriage as 'I love you.' You're my daughter, and in many ways, you're just like me. Same temper, that's for damn sure," he chuckled ruefully. "Just…don't be like your old man when it comes to this, ok?"

Lucy's eyes brimmed with tears at she nodded. The song was coming to a close, and she swallowed back more tears, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, baby," he replied gruffly and brushed a kiss to her cheek. He took her hand in his and led Lucy back to her new husband.

Nine years later, Lucy had just finished a bedtime story and was tucking her sons in for the night.

Seven-year old Nathan peeked up at his mother from over the edge of the covers, his hazel eyes dark and serious. "Is Daddy still mad at you?" he whispered loudly so that he didn't wake up his little brother. Alexander was three and had a tendency to fall asleep long before the evening's bedtime story was finished.

His mother sighed and didn't answer immediately. Matt and Lucy had argued in the past of course, all married couples had their shares of disagreements, but this was by far the worst state their marriage had ever been in.

A few nights ago, Lucy's supervisor had asked her to stay a few hours late. When she had finally returned home, tired but jubilant about over the progress the forensics lab had made on the McMillan murder investigation, the kids were already in bed and Matt was up waiting for her, impatient and infuriated. He had been on call with the security admin for the computer software firm he worked for, and they'd had a major system failure.

She had known he was on call but just didn't feel that the server crash was important enough for her to rush home, especially not when the crime lab was on the verge of a major breakthrough in processing the evidence. It wasn't like people's lives were at stake just because the servers went down, right? Matt had hardly spoken to her since that night.

Well, actually that wasn't quite true. Initially, they'd had a shouting match in the middle of the kitchen. "Do you think that because you care about your job so much, that I don't care about mine?" he'd demanded.

"Right," she'd responded sarcastically. "Because writing a few lines of code is so much more important than wading through the sheer volume of forensics required to solve a double homicide."

Things had gone strictly downhill from there. The only reason the fight didn't continue on longer was that a pajama-clad Alex had come into the kitchen, sobbing and telling them both to 'stop being mean.' Their youngest son was extremely sensitive to the moods of people around him and grew very distressed when people argued or cried in his presence. Lucy had no idea whose side of the family that personality quirk had come from because it certainly wasn't the McClane side.

That was three days ago and, though there had been no more arguments, the atmosphere in the house was anything but comforting and familial. The kids had been unusually quiet and restless. Matt was doing all of his home computer work in his study and falling asleep on the couch in there instead of coming up to bed.

"Mommy?" Nathan's voice brought her out of her reverie and he expectantly awaited her response to his question, though he already knew the answer.

She brushed the dark brown hair back from his forehead and nodded, "Yeah, Daddy's still mad at me."

His little face was solemn. "Are you mad at him?"

"No, I'm not mad at him," Lucy smiled. "I just, well I want him to see my side of the story, is all." And that was all. She kept trying to explain to him the reasoning behind her choice to stay late. Trying to explain anything was pointless though, because every time she spoke to him Matt merely shrugged, his face carefully blank and expressionless. "Whatever."

Nathan considered her answer and nodded understanding. "Do you see his side of the story?" he inquired, cocking his head curiously.

She opened her mouth to respond, and then realized she didn't have a response. Lucy thought about it for a moment. She hadn't tried to see his side of the story at all. She had been too busy trying to justify her own actions. Biting her lip for a moment, she finally leaned over and kissed her son on the forehead. "You know what? You're a very smart little boy."

"I know," he grinned up at her and tugged his covers up a bit more. "Love you," he said around a yawn and turned over to his side to go to sleep.

Lucy reached over to shut off the lamp. Turning back to Nathan, she straightened his blanket, and then moved to do the same with Alex, leaning over to give his small cherubic face a kiss. Then she stood up and slowly made her way downstairs to the study.

The large room was a strange mixture of playroom and computer lab. Shelves lined the walls of the room. The lowest shelves held a myriad of toys, from the latest Transformer toys to Hot Wheels to bedraggled comic books, all within easy reach of Nathan and Alex. The highest shelves held what appeared to be toys as well, but in reality these were some of the many collectibles that Matt had accumulated over the years. Original Star Wars action figures still in the box held places of honor next to the Lego Millennium Falcon and a Predator locked in mortal combat with an Alien.

The middle of the room had three desks, all of which were lined with computer towers, parts, and monitors. Manuals and papers littered the few open areas, and the trash can under the desk overflowed with empty Red Bull cans. Matt was sitting at the centermost desk, typing as he stared at the screen immediately in front of him.

She took a deep breath before stepping into the room and leaned up against the door frame. "Hey," she greeted him tentatively.

He stopped typing and swiveled in his chair to look at her, but didn't respond.

Lucy fidgeted nervously. She knew what she should say but didn't know exactly how to say it. To stop herself from wringing her hands, she instead walked over to one of the shelves and picked up one of the Spawn action figures. "Um… I…" she exhaled with frustration, swapping Spawn from one hand to the other. Dammit, her father had been right again. It was harder to apologize sincerely than it was to say 'I love you.'

Matt still remained silent, though he began to impatiently drum his fingers on the arm of his chair. He didn't seem to be in the mood to hear more of her explanations.

She inhaled and took the plunge. "I'm sorry. You're right. Your job is just as important to you as mine is to me, and I should have respected that instead of ignoring it. So, I just wanted to say that, just so you know. That I'm sorry. Not just for what I said, but that it took me so long to realize how selfish I was being." There was a sudden snapping sound, and she glanced down at her hands, realizing that she'd been gripping the toy so tightly she'd snapped one of the arms off.

"Shit," she cursed and looked up at Matt, but he was no longer in his chair. Instead he was walking toward her. When he reached her, he took the broken toy from her shaking hands, tossed them negligently back on the shelf, and then enveloped her in a hug that was almost painfully tight. She didn't care though, it'd been too long since they'd touched. She cried silently into his shoulder as he kissed her hair.

After a few minutes, she had her emotions under control enough to apologize again. "I'm sorry I broke your Spawn toy, too."

Matt's shoulder shook with laughter under her cheek, and she raised her head to look into his face in confusion. She knew how obsessive he was about his more valuable action figures.

He grinned down at her, using a thumb to brush away a tear from her face. "Don't worry about it… I keep the good one over there on the shelf behind my desk. I put these action figures by the door so that when your dad comes over, if he breaks something it's nothing valuable. I've superglued that thing at least 20 times since we got the house."

Then he kissed her, and the world was right again.


End file.
